


Feel Again

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles bond over their inner demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Again

**Author's Note:**

> Author: sa_brina86  
> Title: Feel Again  
> Rating: PG - 13  
> Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles  
> Character/s: Stiles, Derek  
> Summary: Derek and Stiles bond over their inner demons.  
> Warnings: mention of depression/anxiety etc  
> Submission Type: ficlet  
> Word Count: 684  
> Prompt: #123: Condition  
> Author's Notes: Feels good to be back. :D  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Stiles would say he was in a good condition. He was at ease with himself most of the time, doing a good job as a trainee at the Sheriff’s station and being a good friend to Scott and the others even when they were miles away at college. He had gotten much fitter ever since he had started to work out regularly. Things were going well for him, to sum it up.

But then, there were those moments he dreaded the most. Those moments when a lump formed in his throat, making it hard to breath, when an invisible cold hand closed around his heart with a firm grip, when shivers would run down his spine and he couldn’t really get warm. Or comfortable. Or happy.

When the nogitsune had driven into him, Stiles had lost something that he would never get back. It was a kind of innocence he hadn’t been aware of. Stiles was sure: if he was ever turned into a werewolf, his eyes would glow blue as well.

It wasn’t really guilt that lay in the pit of his stomach like a heavy rock. What he felt, this thick and dull sensation that would slowly but steadily take over until he wanted to hide in bed under his blanket for the time being, didn’t go by any name. It was part of him, like a bad memory, stored away in a deep, dark corner of his mind, just waiting for its chance to strike when he least expected it.

When Stiles found himself sinking deeper and deeper, unable to find words for pain that sat so deep it would never fully disappear, when neither his father nor Scott would know what to do and how to make his cheerful self return, there was only one place his instincts would lead him to.

Stiles could see how raindrops drummed against the large windows of Derek’s loft, leaving long, wavy lines as they went and gathered in the corners, breaking the pale light of distant city lights as they tried to find their way in. Curled up into a ball, he lay on his side, still and quiet. 

There was no need for words, or even for explanations once he showed up at Derek’s place. Because if a person knew what it was like to be torn apart by inner demons, it was the werewolf.

Stiles’s eyes fluttered shut when he felt how the bed moved softly under the weight of the other man. His senses took in the familiar scent, the warmth of another body by his side. He didn’t tense when an arm wrapped around him from behind, when a muscular body pressed up against his back ever so lightly, when warm breath gently tickled the side of his neck.

Stiles had stopped asking Derek not to heal him; he would do it anyway. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when some of the tension eased out of his muscles, when he found himself slowly but steadily lured into a desperately needed, dreamless slumber. He knew Derek would stay right where he was, without asking questions, without needing requests to know what his partner needed the most.

Because sooner or later, roles would reverse. Because sooner or later, it would be Derek who was in need of a silent comforter, holding on to him when the world seemed to be falling apart again. Both knew the agony that came with being shattered into pieces a few times too often. They would always get up again, keep going. But some cuts would never close, some wounds would never heal.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Move on, you can do it.”

“You’re good the way you are.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“You’re not evil.”

Same words, repeated over and over again, did not erase disturbing thoughts from troubled minds. Hugs and kisses didn’t either. But in the quiet of an almost empty loft, Derek and Stiles found themselves able to let go, at least a little bit, just enough to feel again. A little bit more with every day.


End file.
